


When the dust begins to settle

by SilverSynthesis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSynthesis/pseuds/SilverSynthesis
Summary: "There is something that has been bothering me, Inquisitor”, she said matter-of-factly.Maxwell raised an eyebrow at that, eyes widening, then narrowing. Wordlessly he gestured for her to continue.“You have taken part of the mage rebellion under your wing”, Nyssa added. “You have helped the elves in Orlais gain footing by supporting Briala.”She tightened her arms, fingers clenching her tunic, and bit her bottom lip as her anxiety caught up to her. Maxwell waited politely, his expression curious.“Why do you care? Why are you so passionate about helping these groups when you belong to neither? You already have everything you could dream of. Doesn’t that go against human principles? Doesn’t the chant dictate something else?”In which Nyssa - a companion OC by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf) - questions my Inquisitor Maxwell on his principles. Oneshot.
Kudos: 3





	When the dust begins to settle

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet for and betaed by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf).  
> Enjoy reading and let me know what you think in the comments below!

Where once sticky cobwebs and lingering grime had devoured the arcane library, there was now clean and fresh air in the small, hidden room. Although the familiar and musty scent of well-read books remained, even after Nyssa had vigorously cleaned up the place. But it was a smell that brought comfort, like finding solace in solitude.  
While the room she was provided with in Skyhold was efficient, Nyssa had desperately longed for an empty place to start her research for elvhen artifacts again, especially after demons had vaporized her last batch into soot and ash.  
So many items she had lost on the way here… all gone.

She guessed this was a good place to start as any.  
Now that the cramped library looked decent and habitable again, Nyssa had taken it upon herself to examine every single tome on the long, sturdy wooden bookshelves.  
The process for every book was the same: pull it from its hiding place, skim through its alluring contents, record its title and write a short synopsis, then put it back.  
She would organize them by categories later, if she could finish cataloging them. So far the list was large enough to almost cover the huge writing desk just to her right.  
It was a dutiful task, but one she did gladly. If it meant spending a nice and peaceful day away from all the trouble and the humans out there, it was a task full of purpose and meaning — one she was glad to fulfill.  
She had started with the top shelves, because they required the most effort to reach, but the lent ladder served her well. Now, through her diligent efforts, she had reached the eighth row of fourteen. Nyssa had begun her task at dawn, and now it she guessed it was just after noon. 

Carefully, she picked up the next book in front of her, a thick and bound tome; old, but still in good shape. It’s title read "The Hidden Workings of the Fade", by an author she didn’t recognize. Although she was hoping for more lore written by her people, most of the books were written by humans, as she had expected. Almost all of them were mages, from many different backgrounds. It had occurred to her previously that one of the Dalish might have published books under a human pen name, but even then she deemed it highly unlikely.

Keepers kept to their respective clans, and rightfully so. But, but sometimes Nyssa wondered if her research would take flight sooner if arcane knowledge was widespread among all clans. Then again, that posed risks for them, too, so it was understandable to keep secrets—even from their brethren.  
No matter. She had enough knowledge of her own to fill countless books with it, accomplished through hard work and unending tenacity. 

Nyssa knew a lot about the Fade. What other viable information could this tome possibly provide? A sort of rift magic? Ancient spells taught by spirits, perhaps? Having intrigued herself, Nyssa opened the heavy book’s cover and slowly began to read.  
She’d have lost herself in the words if it weren’t for the thudding sound of footsteps echoing from the hall outside, descending down the marble stairs.  
It was likely one of the castle’s servants fetching another round of wine for their pompous and entitled guests.  
She was content to ignore it and just keep quiet. No use in interacting with one of them, after all.  
However, the approaching shadow seemed more and more familiar.

Nyssa quickly darted her eyes back to her book, not wanting to be caught staring at the person emerging from the staircase. If she’d knew some of the people around here better, maybe she could have traced the sound of the footsteps back to their rightful owner, but like this? It was impossible to place, though she could guess that the person was wearing leather boots, judging by the familiar sound on the hard floor.  
Whoever it was, it wasn’t a soldier, at least.

A sudden voice ripped her thoughts to shreds.

“Nyssa? Didn’t expect to find you here.”

The impeccable accent and specific intonation immediately betrayed its owners identity: it was the Inquisitor.  
He sounded surprised, as well as slightly bemused.  
Swiftly, Nyssa closed the tome with a dull thud and focused her attention on him.  
The Inquisitor, the so called ‘“Herald of Andraste’”; Maxwell Trevelyan, as was he known by those who bothered to look past the titles. 

He had a playful smile on his lips, his gaze roaming the arcane library, taking in the clean, well-ordered shelves and walls free of cobwebs.  
Nyssa remained a professional, well-meaning, but practical demeanor.

“An’daran atishan, Inquisitor.” 

She bowed slightly with the necessary respect for someone as powerful as he was right now.  
The only person that was able to close the Fade rifts, the only one in hope of ever sealing the Breach.  
Why was he down here, though? She doubted he came here to read books.

“This is a nice place”, he remarked in a fond tone. 

Only now had he really taken in everything the library had to offer: the massive bookshelves, the wooden desk, the plush looking seat, the burning candles and the ethereal green light the room was bathed in.  
Lured in by the room’s secrets, he took more and more careful steps until he stopped short before the desk.  
Maxwell eyed the books with a tilted head, then blinked. Was his expression genuine curiosity or bafflement? Nyssa couldn’t tell. 

“So,” he said. “You’re the one that requested access to the basement’s library. I assume you’re also the one that cleaned it up?”

No need to lie to him, especially about something as factual and secure as this. Nyssa nodded, and watched as he strode around the desk towards her.

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to have a look at the books here.”

“Good job keeping it in shape so far. I’ve wanted to check out this gem since we got here, but, alas, I forgot.”

He raised his right hand in a flippant gesture, then shrugged.  
Nyssa hadn’t thought of the Inquisitor as someone who loved to read. Maybe he just wanted a close eye on this hidden library for good measure, ; to not let the tiniest detail slip from his grasp.  
Maxwell tilted his head further to read the tome in her hands.

“The Hidden Workings of the Fade, huh?” he said, and she snatched the book from his sight.  
“I’ve wanted to read something like that for a long time.” 

That…was a surprise. A non-mage that was interested in arcane matters - the Fade especially? That was certainly something she had never heard of before, not from humans at least. 

“You’re interested in the magical arts, Inquisitor?” she asked, eyes sharp.  
“Even though they do not affect you personally?”

Most humans reiterated the Chantry’s teaching that magic was something sinful — something dangerous that was in desperate need of control. Wasn’t he of the same mindset as the rest of them?  
The question seemed to amuse Maxwell. He shrugged again, nodding his head, and his smirk grew wider. 

“Well, ever since… the start of this, I’ve gotten curious.”

He glanced down at the glowing mark on his hand, and Nyssa saw a brief flicker of emotion in his eyes.  
The Inquisitor had never seemed bothered by the mark before—at least, not in a way someone could notice. Still, something deeper lingered in the expression; something Nyssa couldn’t quite place.

“The Anchor doesn’t just let me seal rifts, you see”, he began, as his eyes interlocked with hers.  
Their eyes were almost the same shade, she noted idly, but hers were dark like moss, while his mirrored the vibrant green-yellow of the Fade. She wondered if they had always been that colour. 

“For the first time in my life, I feel as though I am finally awake. As if I was previously blind. As if the veil had slightly lifted, just for me.”

“The veil?”

“Not that veil.”

Maxwell’s quick smile faded, and he fell into silence. His gaze dropped, and his brow furrowed, and as the seconds passed he didn’t look up. He seemed at a loss for words.  
She was opening her mouth to speak when he gave a deep sigh and seemed to rouse himself.

“So, I want to learn as much as I can.” 

He wandered over to the nearest bookshelf and brushed a hand across a row of books, dislodging a shower of dust particles. His fingernail traced the gold leaf and faded leather across their spines.  
The more the Inquisitor spoke of himself, the more he was an enigma Nyssa couldn’t quite grasp. He was already intriguing for a human, but there was a burning question that had rested on the tip of her tongue for quite some time now.  
So she put the tome back, turned around and crossed her arms. 

“There is something that has been bothering me, Inquisitor”, she said matter-of-factly.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at that, eyes widening, then narrowing. Wordlessly he gestured for her to continue. 

“You have taken part of the mage rebellion under your wing”, Nyssa added. “You have helped the elves in Orlais gain footing by supporting Briala.”

She tightened her arms, fingers clenching her tunic, and bit her bottom lip as her anxiety caught up to her. Maxwell waited politely, his expression curious.

“Why do you care? Why are you so passionate about helping these groups when you belong to neither? You already have everything you could dream of. Doesn’t that go against human principles? Doesn’t the Chant dictate something else?”

Maxwell scoffed and shook his head, face contorting from a glare of contempt to a bitter smile. 

“As if I would care for what they preach.” 

His voice lowered, closer to a growl than a whisper. Now he had Nyssa’s full attention.  
What was she missing here?  
He must have noticed her puzzled look, because he motioned her to take a seat in the chair. 

“As you probably already know… I come from a noble family of the upmost prestige.”

He spoke the last word as if it was poison on his tongue, his jaw tightening.

“Common practice among these highly religious noble families is to send their youngest child to the Chantry in hopes of raising a pious and influential member. That privilege, as you can tell, fell onto me. I was still a kid at the time. A troublemaker, sure, but still a child.”

It was his turn to cross his arms now, drumming three fingers on his forearm as he looked away. 

“I hated it,” he admitted.  
“Hated the Chantry, their teachings and everyone else there. I was forced on a path I never set the course for myself.”

He paused, shuffled his feet and sighed.

“But that doesn’t really answer your original question, now does it?”

Nyssa had been silent this whole time, taking in what he said carefully and pondering on it. While that explanation cleared things up a bit, his suggestion was right: That didn’t answer her question. She was somewhat amazed by how well he could evade questions by answering another, one that hadn’t been voiced to boot. Something he got drilled into him a lot, she could imagine.  
Maxwell clearly struggled with his next words, so Nyssa let him take his time. He would say what he wanted to say.

“…I had a cousin. I mean, I have many, many cousins, but this one was different.”

A somber look crossed his face, something she had never seen on the Inquisitor’s face.

“...Euphemia. We were the closest in age, so we played together the most. We already had our respective siblings, but we were so attached to one another... We might as have been alone.”

Nostalgia crept into his voice. 

“And everything was fine, until one day it wasn’t. Because something unheard of happened in our family: she turned out to be a mage. The scandal that came with those news… Unthinkable, even now.”

Nyssa already had a sneaking suspicion of what direction this tale would turn.

“Her father —my uncle —was enraged. He said ‘he didn’t raise an abomination’ and swiftly called the templars to take her away. They dragged her kicking and screaming, in chains. A thirteen-year-old girl.”

His voice wavered now, threatening to break under the weight of his words. 

“And I wasn’t there to stop it. I was forced to train to be a simple priest who’d never accomplish anything remotely useful.”

He stepped back from the bookshelf and began to pace, watched closely by Nyssa.

“But that wasn’t the end. We wrote each other letters during the time where we were both prisoners.  
She was feeling worse each day. I thought she might have hurt herself… and one day the letters stopped. I feared the worst, but thankfully she survived.”

Maxwell stopped mid-pace and turned back to her.

“And that was the moment I told myself: no more”, he said grimly. “I will no longer stand aside when people are tormented for what they are. I may not understand their suffering, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. Not with the power I have now.”

It was an admirable trait, to care so much for the fate of those less fortunate. It was not something Nyssa was used to finding in humans. Usually, they would speak of doing charity and good deeds in the name of the Maker, but in a crisis they would disappear. Maxwell seemed more determined, and not once had he spoken of doing good out of obligation to the Maker. He hadn’t spoken of his faith at all. And yet, she had a feeling he had not told her everything. Perhaps baring his heart to people he barely knew made him nervous. She couldn’t blame him for that.

“I haven’t spoken of this to many others”, he said eventually and returned his gaze to hers.  
“I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself, at least for a little while. Especially when there is so much more I could say.”

”I won’t tell anyone,” Nyssa said. “It’s none of their business.”

His smile turned sheepish, though the gratitude did not leave his expression.

“Now,” he said, “I’ll leave you to your studies again. I’ve taken up enough of your time already. Maybe I’ll check back in a few days for a pair of books, though? Must be good ones if you like this place so much.”

Nyssa couldn’t help an amused smile at the sudden lightness in his voice, as if they had been discussing something trivial.

“Wait,” she said, as he headed for the door. “Your cousin. What happened to her in the end? You spoke of her in the past tense.”

It was a bold question; one she likely knew the answer to. Regardless, Maxwell stopped in his tracks. Wordlessly he raised his left hand and showed his marked palm to her. With that question answered, the Inquisitor had made his way to the stairs and left the room. 

Now alone once again, she couldn’t help the creeping feeling of regret creeping up her spine. What would the Inquisitor do if he ever found out that she was partially (unwittingly, but still) responsible for this cause?

The Breach had thrown the entire world into flames, and left nothing but ashes in its wake.

What would the Inquisitor do once the dust had begun to settle? 

Nyssa could only wonder.


End file.
